"Your Day at the Zoo"

They
tell you when it’s your day, of course — not something to miss. They
took your samples quite a while ago — scrapings and blood – but until
you got the notice you’d almost forgotten. They tell you to come half an
hour before opening.The staff, all smiles, escort you through the gate — there’s no need to stamp your hand.A
wall of fish tanks lines the entry halls — full of tiny tetras, glass
catfish, and glowing cichlids all ontologically recapitulating. You look
into miniscule eyes, hunting for recognition or acknowledgement, but
that will not come until later. Still, the glowing colors flicker
pleasantly. Brilliant scales clothe each tiny body in endless
possibilities.Inside the monkey house, crouched figures scamper.